Shadow Warrior
by KiyaNamiel
Summary: Jedi Lord Obi-Wan Kenobi is not normal in any sense of the word. If his looks aren't enough to prove it, then nothing else is. When he keeps being thrust back and forth between different worlds with no logical explanation, the elf-assassin is forced to come to grips with his shrouded past. But then, surely, living in the Star Forge hasn't helped any?
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, this is the first chapter of the rewrite. I'm going to be span in some events of the Silmarillion, and then go the Hobbit and lord of the Rings. Thank you for sticking with me, and I hope that you will enjoy! Again, this is not a plagiarized version of SkyleafAlchemist's All that Remains. I have her permission to use her name of 'Daelas' and the elf-assassin idea in general. **

Chapter 1

"It is not in my hands anymore, Vairë." The voice sounded infinitely weary and held such grief that anyone who would have heard it surely would have fallen to their knees weeping uncontrollably.

"But why?" It was a despairing whisper.

"He says there is a part he has to play that we cannot deny Arda." Was the heavy answer. There was a silence for a moment, and then the female voice spoke up again.

"Then let Eru do as he will. I don't know how I'll explain this to him, though..." Then the strong voice wavered and collapsed into tears.

A babe began to cry, and there was the sound of a loud crack of thunder before there was a flash of bright blue light that was blinding in intensity.

LOTRLOTRLOTR

Obi-Wan woke up with a start, breathing heavily. He couldn't think straight, and as a result gave a snarl of frustration, kicking off the pitch black blankets and walking over to the window that overlooked space. His arms were crossed behind his back, face inscrutable in the dim light of the stars as he sank himself into meditation.

The door creaked open, but he didn't move. "What's wrong, son? You are disturbed." A woman walked forwards and gently placed a hand on his arm. He turned his head slightly and surveyed her through the corner of his eyes.

"I'm alright. Just a dream." Was his terse answer. There was a pause.

"Was it really just a dream?" The woman asked shrewdly.

Obi-Wan's lips thinned. "No." He admitted. "It was a memory."

"Again? Obi-Wan, this is your fourth!" The woman scolded, dragging him away and setting him down on the bed. "You need to tell me of these things. What was it about?" She demanded.

Her son's eerie violet eyes were glowing in the dim lights of space as his gaze pierced through her, making her almost shiver.

"Tell me again how you both found me." Obi-Wan answered in reply, referring to her and her husband. He never referred to either them as 'mother' or 'father' for he was not their true son, and he didn't feel comfortable, for some reason, calling them that.

There was a sigh, but she began the tale again. "It was the around the time when the Star Forge was completed. We were just settling down in our rooms after completely finishing the transitions to the Forge and getting it to properly work when a convergence happened in the Force. There was a blast so strong it literally knocked your father off of his feet as well as I, from both the light and dark sides of the Force."

She paused, then continued. "When the Star Forge finally stopped shaking from the burst, we heard wailing- coming from our bed. And when I rushed over, there was you, Obi-Wan, screaming your head off and the Force in you so strong that I had to shield you to keep myself from fainting. And you were glowing so brightly that I could hardly stand to look at you."

Obi-Wan's eyes never wavered, though he smiled slightly at the humorous statement inserted teasingly into the narrative. "It was as if, as your father says, 'you were the child of the Force itself.'" She said thoughtfully, starting to speak more to herself than anything.

"And we, of course, kept you and raised you as our own, since both sides of the Force were practically screaming at us to do so. And therefore you became son of Sith Lord Darth Revan and Jedi Bastilla, heir to the Star Forge." Bastilla smiled softly.

"You were and still are a beautiful child, Obi-Wan." She murmured, stroking his cheek gently, though he showed no emotion outwardly. "Neither of us knew what to make of you, with your pointed ears and glow that did not dim."

She stirred once more. "And we raised you in both the ways of the light side and dark side of the Force, so that you would be neutral, to choose whether to become a Sith or a Jedi." She finished. "Now tell me of this vision of yours." She said impatiently, rousing Obi-Wan from his thoughts.

"It was- there were two beings. I do not think that they were humans, but- like me." He replied vaguely. "They were speaking about something, about someone..." He explained the rest, while Bastilla sat in thought.

Then she finally withdrew from her consultation with the Force. "It sounds as though it might be the way you got here. But where in the galaxy is 'Arda'? It's obviously a place. And who is 'Eru'?" She mused, while she held his hands gently.

Obi-Wan just sat with seemingly no emotion, face impassive and stone still. But anyone could tell that he was in meditation by his slightly glazed eyes and absent air. Bastilla finally stirred with a sigh.

"You grow more mysterious each day I know you, son." She said, a clearly amused smile in her tone. He just smiled absently in reply. She patted his hands and left him to it.

Obi-Wan did not sleep the rest of the night, meditating about his life.

LOTRLOTRLOTR

"Pick up your feet and MOVE, Obi-Wan." A darkly clad figure snarled, sounding highly annoyed. "As my son, heir to this Forge, and such a powerful Force-sensitive, you can do better than this." He snapped, making the younger, smaller figure in front of him snap to obedience. "You have been training in the ways of the Force long enough to be better."

Contrary to thought, the man was not being harsh, despite the seeming circumstances. It was rightful admonishing, pushing the young boy to his limits and full potential.

The man himself was an imposing figure dressed in a black robe pooling around his ankles, a gold chest plate, two black shoulder guards, leather straps holding them in the back and crossing to the front where they were joined by a large silver ring made of platinum, a black cloak thrown around his shoulders and the hood drawn over his head. A mask completed the outfit, one that brought fear to the hearts of whoever was unfortunate enough to see it.

This was Sith Lord Darth Revan, complete with his red mask with a horizontal, droid-like slit in the top for vision. Two lightsabers were strapped to his waist, one red and one purple.

The boy he was watching was going through a series of lightsaber katas far above normal level, going faster than the mind could comprehend. Whatever race the boy was of, Darth Revan mused, it surely didn't to any harm to his training. In fact, it was helping to a point where it was mind-boggling even to him.

The boy had learned well so far of what he had been taught. It had not been two years since he had adopted him, and yet he had already mastered the first form of lightsaber combat: Shii-cho.

The boy was a convergence in the Force. It was like he was made of both the light and dark sides of the force, and yet extremely strong in the Unifying Force more than the Living Force. He had visions almost every night.

As Obi-Wan had grown, he had learned the ways of a Sith from Revan, and yet the ways of the Jedi from Bastilla. Both sides, as he had pointed out to both of his foster parents, had pros and cons. They had agreed, and as a result of his training and his point of view, he was neither Jedi nor Sith Lord, but rather a mixture of both- a Jedi Lord, as he chose to call it.

So he, yes, had morals, compassion, courtesy, standards; but neither was he one who loathed the touch of the Dark Side. For indeed, even though the dark side is dangerous, it is not evil.

The light side is the side that keeps peace. It is the side of compassion and love. Flaw number one in the Jedi's 'no attachments' rule. But it is not meant to be used to fight.

That is the part of the Dark Side. You must use the dark side to fight. It is not so much evil as it is dangerous, really. The Dark side is emotion. It is aggressive, it is defensive, it is all these things. But in of itself, it is not evil.

An individual is the one who makes it so. The Dark Side is dangerous, for it is potent with strong emotion. If you choose to use it, it must be wisely, or else you will fall. You must have one foot in the light, or else the Dark Side will start to utterly control you.

And also contrary to popular belief, the Dark Side is capable of loving. But only in a certain way. It can love conflict just as well as a person. Therefore, YOU must control the dark side, instead of allowing IT to control YOU. And hence is the difference between a Sith and a Dark Jedi.

Therefore, the Jedi refused the dark side, for too many lost themselves to it, not being able to be strong enough to control their own emotions. Love is not the path to the dark side, it is merely an opening for you to loose yourself to it in your own weakness and folly.

So Obi-Wan follows both codes of the Force, adopting the 'correct' parts of both and refusing others that he did not see as being 'right.' And, as Revan had to admit, it made him a powerful Force user, with potential to rival himself.

And Obi-Wan, as a result, had forced him to come up with a new method of training him that had not been used before. The boy was so powerful in the Force, it took any Force-sensitive's breath away and left them literally gasping for air.

So the first thing, of course, was to teach him how to shield himself. As soon as Obi-Wan had, however, his unnaturally natural glow had been cut off abruptly, shut away along with his shielding. At first the boy had panicked, but then had realized that it was merely the shielding effect and not that it had been 'killed.' It was still there and always would be.

For his parents, however, it had been a vague relief, since the light had been all but blinding. And also was the change in Obi-Wan's natural eye color, which he took to be the effect of shutting in the light.

Originally, they had been a beautiful, breathtaking blue-green, cerulean color. But now, with the shielding, they were violet. And as if it was not Sith-like enough, they changed shades. If Obi-Wan became angry- on the rare occasion, it must be noted, for he was extremely mild-tempered and diplomatic- those eyes would darken until they were either plum purple or almost pitch black, according to the extent of his wrath.

The boy also had dirty blonde hair that he refused to cut, so that it had grown to the length of his waist, making him look almost ethereal in appearance, with his hair, extremely fair and flawless skin, and even his eyes, no matter the color. But being uncomfortable among others, the boy had taken to wearing a black cloak with a hood. Revan did not care. Neither did Bastilla, for that matter.

His training, on the other hand, had been a challenge. Revan had twisted a form of Force-manipulation, and had done something never done before- gave the boy some of his select memories. All Obi-Wan had to do was unlock those memories through practice, 'practiced' force methods and reflexes coming to him as though through re-training.

And once they had all been unlocked and perfected, then came the holocrons. From Sith long ago, methods so complicated that Revan hadn't bothered even trying, methods lost to the mists of time. And in the next years that passed slowly and yet quickly, Obi-Wan had not only learned, but had mastered them all.

And therefore, the greatest Force-sensitive there was came into existence, though none but a few knew his true powers and potential; for with a powerful Force-sensitive also comes powerful shielding.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The next day, Obi-Wan was quiet and did not speak much at all to anyone, though it was not much of a surprise. Obi-Wan preferred not to speak unless absolutely necessary. Revan, however, wasn't deterred or fooled.

"Come, Obi-Wan. There is something I must show you today." He ordered, and Obi-Wan followed, as always, with respect and reserve.

Revan set out a holocron and flicked it on in the training room, stepping back and watching Obi-Wan with an inscrutable face as Obi-Wan watched the holocron passively.

A figure flickered to life, sitting down and legs crossed, arms resting on his legs comfortably. "Sit, apprentice."

Obi-Wan sat in meditative stance, following the order of the holocron. "You must focus. To retrieve one's memories are not easy, and you must be utterly focused."

In one smooth motion, Obi-Wan had stood, and his hand waved, shutting off the holocron. He turned to Revan.

"Not happening." He said curtly, and turned, cloak swishing ominously in his wake. If he would have waited, though, he would have seen Revan's face crease into a pleased smile.

LOTRLOTRLOTR

"Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force." Obi-Wan murmured to himself absently from where he was sitting and thinking of his training.

He had already mastered Ataru, Soresu, Shii-cho, and Djem-So forms of lightsaber combat. He preferred using a single lightsaber, though he also carried a shoto and a double blade, which he rarely used but carried nonetheless. His main 'saber was azure, his shoto purple, and his double blade red.

And of course, as always, there was his armor. It had been made in the Star Forge, and without a doubt Obi-Wan would never part with it, ever. It was made of an alloy of Adamantium and vibrantium, and was nearly indestructible. Adamantuim, of course, is nearly invincible in solid form, and vibrantium provided stability in that it was lightweight and completely absorbed kinetic energy. It was a dull black color, like unpolished cut obsidian.

It was a full-body suit that was thin and could be worn underneath any form of clothes possible- hence why he always wore it, even in sleep. In the rare occasion he slept, that is. For he did not need sleep, although once in a while he would slip into a mild doze which kept his eyes open, hidden under his hood. He never told his parents about it, for he was sure that it was a thing that pertained to his race alone.

He did not need sleep. The Force was all that he needed, and he would often sleep just for sheer boredom if at all. The Force was his strength and his support. It was his pillar. His center of gravity. His anchor. His everything. His life. And it was all he needed. If he had the Force, he had life and he had everything he needed.

"Obi-Wan." Bastilla called him from the room she sat in, using a holocomputer.

"Yes, Master?" He replied, coming into the room. She looked up at him and waved him forwards.

"Look at this, Obi. Tell me what you see." She ordered, pointing at the holovid that ran on the screen. He watched carefully as their vacation villa on the planet of Naboo was blasted to pieces. But in the midst of the rain of debris, he spotted a figure all dressed in all black slipping away from the shadows. Bastilla saw that he saw.

"What would you wish for me to do?" He asked calmly, though he suspected the answer. Bastilla smiled.

"Do you have to ask, Obi?" She answered, and he inclined his head in acknowledgement, turning to leave. "Oh, and take any fighter you want, as usual." Bastilla called after him. With a curt nod, he left quickly, moving through the Star Forge's familiar hallways in silence.

A few moments later, Darth Revan watched through a window as his apprentice and foster son flew off in his favorite fighter using a hyperspace ring.

The boy's trials to knighthood had officially begun.

LOTRLOTRLOTR

Death. The halls of this so called 'stronghold' reeked of it, and the Force shuddered in grief and pain. Obi-Wan Kenobi grimaced inwardly as he shielded his mind farther to prevent too much from entering his mind.

The Force was like a black hole in this building, he decided grimly, everything spiraling and being sucked into a hole of the nothingness of the dark side of the Force. Of pain, and suffering, and wailing, and grief, and hatred- he stopped himself from going any farther.

The Jedi do not hate, for hatred leads to pain, and pain leads to suffering, and suffering leads to the temptation of giving being consumed by the dark side of the Force. It was a morass of pure hatred, consuming all light and longing for it and yet hating it for its brightness; for without out the light it would not exist. Without light there is no darkness- but without the darkness there is also no light.

The Sith do not engrained themselves too deeply in the dark side of the Force either. It is too dangerous.

He walked along the shadows of the hallways, hiding himself in the dark spots and sneaking along the sides of the buildings of Naboo, always reaching out through the Force to find any life-forms.

This was just another of the many solo missions that he had gone on during the forty years he had spent here in this galaxy, learning all that he could about the Force and what it was about. He had an eternity, after all.

He ducked into the shadows of the stark white corridor as a droid rolled past, carrying a metal cart filled with vials of some sort. He discreetly used the force to lift two bottles into his hands. Maybe one of them would come in handy in another mission once he figured out what it was.

He hurried along the corridors once again, making his way to his destination, for this was his mission- to kill the dark Jedi that lived here. He had been tracking him down for a week now, trying to find this destroyer of property and petty dark Jedi that thought that he could challenge two Sith Lords and an apprentice. It had gone on long enough.

As he approached the door behind which he could sense the dark Jedi was, he wondered if he could just sneak in and kill him and be done with it. He shook his head and sighed inwardly. It wouldn't work.

He had been trained for thirty years to be an assassin and Jedi Lord for his masters. He was swift, he was silent, he could walk on any material without a noise and as light as a feather, he could go virtually unseen and undetected by anyone without the Force, he could kill and leave without a trace. His true identity was unknown and he was feared by the the galaxy for his skills.

Revan and Bastilla had made use of his skills by training him to be an assassin, and had also taught him the boundary between the light and the dark. He was not completely dark; he was light- but he was also a suppressed light. He could kill without emotion and he would not let attachments get in his way. He was not heartless- far from it- but he was not innocent.

How many times had he been captured by a dark Jedi and tortured, trying to be turned to the dark side? He was light. In each case, he was victorious- for the simple reason that he had never had another choice. In the end, he came out alone and free.

The door opened and closed behind him as he stepped inside, slipping into the shadows of the room. The dark Jedi turned to look and was puzzled to see no one there by the door. He could sense no one anywhere around. A hand clamped on his neck and a lightsaber was at his throat before he had a chance to blink.

"Who sent you?" His voice, despite the dire conditions, was calm.

"Why do you need to know?" Answered a calm, detached voice. The dark Jedi envied him for his- aloofness.

"I wish to know the name of my assassin before I die." He replied coolly, trying to probe the aura of this being. He was shocked to find a solid, unmoving wall blocking his attempts.

"I am Obi-Wan Kenobi. All offenses are avenged by the Force in the end." The voice replied without emotion. He could not see anything of this person, he could not sense them. It was like facing death itself in the face.

"Then know that the Sith are pitiful." He snarled, sensing that his time was up. A light touch of the humming lightsaber and the body was lowered to the floor. Obi-Wan stared at it without any emotion on his face or in his eyes- there was none. He was an assassin. There was no room for emotion.

"Pitiful indeed." He answered the dead form blankly, and left. There was no trace of his coming or going, and there was no sound until an hour later when the alarm was raised at the finding of the lifeless body that stared at them with unseeing eyes.

It was like the poor man had committed suicide. That's how everyone else explained it. That's how Obi-Wan wanted it. This was his job and his life.

LOTRLOTRLOTR

Obi-Wan walked along the corridors to the analysis wing of the Star Forge, hood up as it usually was in this galaxy. He mused about the dark being he had just killed. What was it that made people turn to the dark side for revenge? He wondered to himself as he waited for the results of his vials.

He was broken out of his train of thought by a droid informing him that the vials contained lethal poison that worked by entering the blood system of whatever ingested it and making its way towards the heart. It only took fifteen minutes for it to, and once it passed the heart, it would start corroding the walls of the heart within a matter of minutes. A swift, nearly painless death.

The assassin took the vials and stowed them in his pockets. One drop of the stuff in a glass of water was enough to do its job. His own job would benefit from the potion.

Purple eyes stared thoughtfully at the door that he had arrived in front of, and his hand reached out for the hand-pad that would allow him access into the rooms.

Fingers pressed the pad and the door slid open. This was his life, and he had no other choice but to live with it. It was the way of life that he had been forced into, and he was not about to change it.

Not when the Force screamed at him that it was right, despite that he was in the wrong place. Here, he was Obi-Wan Kenobi, not Duvainor Feänturion.


	3. Chapter 3

**you may recognize some very familiar scenes here if you read the original. XD anyways, here's the next chapter! Please tell me what you thought... **

Chapter 3

The familiar quarters were drenched in both sides of the Force. If he had felt like he belonged in this galaxy, then he would have said that the Force had made it into its own personal home. Soothing, comforting tendrils curled around him, allowing peace of mind and rest that was not often to be found elsewhere.

"Masters." He greeted Revan and Bastilla warmly with a dip of the head. He may be an assassin, but he was not emotionless.

"Obi-Wan. Was your mission successful?" Bastilla rose from the couch and went to make some tea. He followed.

"Yes, master. It was successful." Obi-Wan replied, sitting quietly at the table. His violet eyes followed his master's movements, delving a little deeper into the Force and seeing the utter calm and familiarity in the movements, steadfast and unwavering. It was almost unnerving how well he could sense the Force.

Chai tea was set before him in a chipped, earthenware cup, and he curled his fingers around it, brows furrowing. The slight steam rose to his nose and he breathed it in, allowing it to relax his muscles.

"What troubles you, apprentice?" Revan sat in front of him, wise, grey eyes peering over the rim of the cup.

"What makes them fall?" He asked, lifting the cup up. He knew that the question was complex. And he knew that he would also get no answer- and a cryptic one if at all. It was for him to find out, not to be answered. His masters did not reply.

He lifted the mug to his lips and inhaled it. It was not to be swallowed, it was to be inhaled, barely sipped. Flavors of dried grass, herbs, and flowers mingled and pooled on his tongue, and he swallowed as soon as it had cooled. They sat in silence for a while.

"Your trials have begun. Tomorrow is the end." Piercing eyes studied him, and he set the mug down.

"Yes, master." In truth, he was nervous. His face held no emotion, but he was still nervous. The trials were difficult, and he knew that especially with his skills he would be sorely tested. Tomorrow was to be spent in meditation to prepare. For now, though, he chose to think about his vague memories and converse with his masters as they sipped the tea along with the Force.

LOTRLOTRLOTR

The Force was being mysterious today. Not that it hadn't always been, but to a Jedi the Force was quite clear, and especially to Obi-Wan. Today, though, it was even more so than usual.

It was slick and tepid, like the rains that fell drearily outside- exactly the way it had been when Revan had first found his apprentice.

Obi-Wan cleared his mind. It was almost ridiculously easy to center himself, for he was the center. He was the anchor for the ship of his thoughts in the eddying currents of the Force.

They arrived at the place where his trials were to take place. Bastilla sent him a soothing pulse, and he acknowledged it with a slight nod that was returned.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, are you ready for your trial?" Revan asked formally, as according to tradition.

He bowed in respect. "Yes, master." He replied. Emotionless and expressionless. Centered and focused. Hopefully by the time that this was finished, he could add tried and true to that description.

He breathed. The Force filled his lungs, filling, stretching, searching, and giving life. His mind was empty. His hand rested on his lightsabers. He was calm.

"Then you may begin when ready." Revan spoke up, voice as sharp and to-the-point as his Vaapad katas.

He nodded and walked forwards; not quickly, not excitedly. Quietly, calmly, determinedly. He was ready to face any and all things that he might meet. He knew that his masters were watching. He would not fall. He would not let them down.

The Force whispered to him as he entered a doorway into a room in the hallway of the Star Forge that he had been directed to. He was quiet. He was swift. He melded into the shadows- became a shadow. He was no more than another formless being, watching and knowing all things. Violet eyes were now plum purple, deep and dark in concentration.

He wished there were life-forms here with him. He, as an elf, was connected with living things, plants and trees. But he knew that the absence of them was deliberately arranged as part of the trials. It made it as difficult as possible.

The Force shrieked in his ears in warning. A red snap-hiss and a crackle of plasma alerted him and he sank even deeper into the Force, his own azure blade springing to life like the claws of a Nexu as he sprang out of the shadows to face his opponent.

This was not a sentient being. This was a Sith holocron of his adopted father. His eyes flashed in the sparks that flew from the crackling blades as they met in the deadly dance. But he was not a warrior. He was not a knight. He did not do swordplay.

He went for the kill. He did not parry: he moved. He flowed like the currents of the Force he immersed himself in, snapping out to strike like the head of a serpent or the crack of a well-aimed whip. He did not block: he redirected.

The next instant the red saber was cut in half and spinning on the floor where it had landed with a crack. He slipped back into the shadows and continued on.

Silent; swift; efficient; unknown; hidden: the litany was running through his head like a chant spoken over and over. The Force is silent. Whispered tendrils of muted sound escape its strange oiliness, slick and thick and suffocating like an oil spill in the oceans. It is brooding, holding its breath as though before a deep plunge.

His minute probes into the Force suddenly warn him as an assassin droid leaps into the room from behind the pillar it has been stationed. He can count three spider droids, five assassin droids, and two normal fighter droids. He feels annoyed, but hides it behind his mental shields.

His sudden leap startles the droids that are looking around for their enemy. Before they can register the command to shoot, he has already taken out two spiders. He bounces silently off of the walls, dodging the plasma shots and landing behind an assassin droid. It has been thirty seconds since he has leapt.

The droid crumples to the ground, neatly cut in half with a muted clatter that can barely be heard as Obi-Wan slows its descent with the Force. Another droid lunges, and is met with a saber to the face. One by one they are all dispatched, confused and bewildered as the shadow leaps from nowhere and everywhere, slipping in and out of the dark patches that scatter the floor in the corners of the room.

The azure blade and the purple shoto disappear with a muted thrum, like a satisfied sigh. It has been fifteen minutes since he has started. He is halfway there.

The next room is filled with darkness. It is quiet, and the force swirls in disquiet and unease. The blackness is thick and wrong. He sinks into the force. Azure, golden, scarlet, emerald, and lavender spring into color like pinpoints of starlight in a black sky; and he looks around with his elvish eyesight, awed at the amount of crystals that stud the walls in this room.

They are catalysts for the Force, focusing the Force through them and making clear the notes of the song that the Force always sings. But they are warning him. Suddenly, darkness begins slamming against his shields. It is trying to break through, to break him, to harm him, to hurt him, to control him- he grits his teeth and dives into the light, defensive side Force.

He is like a diver, swimming deeper and sinking into the Force, melding himself into its currents and wrapping it around him like a shield. That is what the bright side of the Force is. A shield. The darkness slams against the Force, unable to reach him through the shield.

He walked along the hallways, hiding himself in the Force and making his silent footsteps change from being a drumbeat in the Force to nothing more than a muted thud; like a pair of socks on a carpeted floor.

The darkness retreats. He walks into an open room that is filled with light that streams in from the high windows, lighting up the white statues that line the sides of the stark-white room.

The air here is starch and clean, and in acknowledgement the Force stays put, opting to stay in its place and not move, becoming like the statues and playing their silent flutes that ring in his ears as the music of the Force.

Here everything is the center. Here it is an anchor, a place of rigid peace from the continuous waves of the Force.

He walks through, listening to the silent conversation of the statues through their poses. The thoughtful gaze pinned on the other statue that is in the stance of a kata, eyes closed. Meditation through movement. A dull background of tuned-out music, to serve as an anchor for thoughts.

The statue in the basic, offensive, battle-ready Shii-cho stance, lightsaber pointed to another figure who is dancing. Strength through weakness. He must be strong, but also flexible. A strong wind may fell a mighty oak tree and leave the reed beside it still standing, because the reed has bent compliantly to the wind, easing the wind's wrath.

The last and most seemingly starkly contrasting pair there is. A figure draped in robes, books in hand and mouth open in a rousing speech- and judgmental finger pointing at the woman whose tears are mingling with the dew on the rose petals that she bears, devotion and sorrow etched into her features. Power through gentleness. He can sway a crowd with a speech, but with gentleness he can sway the hard world to tears.

As he exits that final room, the Force still echoing in his ears with fading notes of a haunting melody, he thinks about the lessons he has learned through the trials. He will apply them to his life. He looks up to see his masters there, small smiles on some of their faces, and allows relief and joy to show through his eyes, the emotions leaking through his impeccable shields and blooming in the Force like grass and flowers.

"Well done, apprentice Kenobi. You have passed the trials. The last room was the most important, for not only will you use these lessons in life, but you must also learn to find them in seemingly meaningless things. Congratulations." Bastilla spoke up, giving him a smile at the end.

His master Revan clapped his shoulder- his father-figure in all things, and the congratulations that he received from them both faded to just another cacophony of muted, background sounds as he thanked his masters through his eyes and the Force.

No words were needed. It was already spoken through the music of the spheres that surrounded them in its light.

LOTRLOTRLOTR

Obi-Wan gave a slight, unnoticeable shudder as a lightsaber hummed next to his ear where he knelt on the stone floor of the meditation chamber. With the smell of burnt hair in his nose, he looked down at the severed apprentice braid that lay in his hand, and tied the open end of it with a blue band.

His Masters nodded in satisfaction as he stood, newly knighted. He was no longer a learner, but now a master, free to take on an apprentice of his own. He is an assassin, a dangerous enemy and yet the greatest friend. But trust does not come easily with Kenobi.

He stood and walked over to his former master Revan and bowed. "Master, will you accept this braid as thanks for your training?" The words were spoken as formally as the braid was offered, but the remnants of their training bond echoed with the true sentiment behind the words.

His master bowed in return. "It is an honor." He replied, misty grey eyes glinting in knowing humor. A smile quirked Obi-Wan's lips for a moment before turning back to the Bastilla.

He opened his mouth to speak when the Force suddenly railed. It burst into action, like a shark breaking the surface of the ocean to snatch his kill out of the air. Masters and former apprentice fell to their knees, overwhelmed with the sudden power that filled the air, tangible and strong, demanding attention.

It roared like a thundering waterfall over a cliff, and broke upon them like they were the rocks and pebbles on the bottom of the riverbed, forcing them down. Obi-Wan's eyes peeled open from where they had shut, and he vaguely heard a voice ring through his ears.

"Come back to Arda, Duvainor. Remember who you are. Return, for help is required-" the command was broken off by the rushing of air through his hair and into his ears, and something in his mind broke. He clutched his head with a shout that was lost in the sound of the wailing Force, memory after memory rushing through his head, fleet and fast, slipping through his mental fingers like water.

Then everything went black, and the Force cradled him like a child, the feeling of a soothing, black cloak that wrapped him in peace and calm.

LOTRLOTRLOTR

Masters rose to their feet, shaken and pale by the power that had been just released by the Force. They looked at each other, confused and bewildered.

"What was that?" Revan rasped, shocked at the hoarseness in his own voice.

Bastilla, though, was staring at the braid that was cradled in her palm. "He's gone. He is where he belongs." She replied, voice flat in private grief.

He suddenly realized the absence of Obi-Wan and slowly the puzzle pieces clicked into his mind.

"He was brought here by the Force, and now that he is trained it has reclaimed its own." He nodded, and was left to comfort his distraught wife.


	4. Chapter 4

**sorry this is a little short. The next chapter will be longer. I had to straighten out quite a few details, but now I think I've got it down. So anyways, please review! I will get to the events of the hobbit and The Lord of the rings, so those who were disappointed open the rewrite please don't despair. Obi will be a tenth walker, never fear! Thanks to all those who have followed, faved, and reviewed.**

Chapter 4

Obi-Wan was floating in the black, night sky. Voices rose to him from where he wandered in his sleep, and pinpricks of light floated in front of his vision, spotting the blackness with bright polka dots.

"Is he awake yet?" Asked an impatient voice irritably.

"Hush! When he wakes he will let us know." Came the reprimand.

He struggled to understand what position he was in. Was he standing, or lying down, or- for all he knew he could be upside down! He finally gave up and called out to the blackness.

"Who are you, and where am I?" His voice sounded small and quiet, not at all like it normally did. It sounded childish.

"See? He's awake!" The pinpricks of light floated closer.

"My name is Manwë. We knew that you would have questions; therefore we are here to answer them." Came the reply. He frowned, and sudden memories came back to him.

"I-I come from another galaxy?" He was baffled. And that was something that he wasn't very often.

"Yes, you do. And you were sent to another place to learn how to use your skills." Was the curt answer.

He thought about it for a moment. Elves, dwarves, men- surely he was an elf. That explained his glow and his immortality and pointed ears. He remembered many things- but his heritage.

"Why can't I remember my family?" Funny, he felt so vulnerable without that knowledge.

"Because you were meant to find out on your own." Was the reply. "Now, your time is up. You need to go back." He frowned. If this was the Valar, then he couldn't argue, but still-!

Then everything swirled and went completely black all over again, much to his annoyance.

LOTRLOTRLOTR

When he woke up, the first thing that he noticed was the Force. It was practically seething in smugness. The Force was rubbing its tendrils in glee, cackling like it had accomplished a great feat. It was proud of itself, like when someone has proven their enemy wrong.

The second thing he noticed was the clarity in the Force. It wasn't tainted like it was back in- what, another- not galaxy, but- universe. That's it. It wasn't tainted like it was there, but instead it was much more clearer.

The third thing he noticed was that he was in the middle of a clearing and something about him was very different. With a grunt, Obi-Wan stood and his hand automatically went to his waist. To his relief, both his shoto, lightsabers, and thankfully his armor were there, but there were other things on him as well.

He took a look at himself and did a double-take. Firstly, he wasn't wearing Sith or Jedi robes any more. Instead, he had on an interesting type of robe. It was like a normal tunic at the top, but then went down past his waist and then split right about where his knees were, a little like his foster father's clothing. There was a pair of brown leggings to go with it, and also the robe thing was black. An Obi stretched across his waist and was decorated with a panel that held a strange, sun-in-eclipse symbol on it in black and white.

Secondly, he had a whole bunch of other weapons all hidden underneath his black cloak. He was grateful for that, because he knew that he would blend in very well with the trees and other shadowy places he would wander. Counting his weapons, he had his three 'sabers; a bow and a quiver of arrows; the two vials of poison that he had tucked in his tunic; twenty throwing daggers in myriads of places, including his boots and secret pockets in his tunics; and three returning throwing stars.

On second thought, he reached up to his braided hair and was relieved to find that his hair spikes were still there as well. Enemies found his hair apparently fascinating, and as a result he had been tugged to tears before. So he had made hair spikes, braided into his braids. Lethal weapons, really.

He took a look around and leapt into a nearby tree, finding that no Force-leap was necessary. This part of the forest was strange. The trees were darker than they should have been, according to his memories, and they hissed as though in anger. This whole part of the forest was fraught with danger, and he found it disturbing.

Something brushed against his consciousness, and he felt startled, until he remembered that the trees can speak. They whispered to each other, even as he heard them in his mind.

'Elf' they hissed suspiciously. 'Elves bad. They hurt. Too bright!' They cringed. He placed a hand on the tree he was in, and felt it creak under his touch.

"This elf strange.' The tree said, confusion in its voice. 'Warm. Not burns.' The other trees seemed interested.

Obi-Wan tilted his head, realizing that these trees were shadowed. They were not like the other trees, for the darkness had taken ahold of them, making them become not evil, but tainted, in the neutral zone. They could just as easily hate orcs as they would elves- just like him.

'I am- a friend." He replied to their murmurs. They talked among themselves. This elf was warm. His touch reminded them of what they were a long time ago. Bright and untainted. But now they were not so.

'Daelas' they whispered to one another. 'This elf our Daelas.' They decided. The trees creaked and their branches cut off Obi-Wan's path. They would keep him as their own warm little sapling, their Daelas and none others'.

'You cannot keep me here.' Their Daelas told them. 'I must leave. But I will return.' The trees hissed.

'Our Daelas stay.' They retorted possessively. He sighed in reply.

'I cannot.' He replied. The dark trees seemed to grumble in reluctance, but for their shadow leaf, they would let him go where he would. He had promised to come back, hadn't he?

'Thank you, Mellyn nîn.' He thanked them, and in a moment had disappeared from their consciousness and their sight. And they wondered all the more. Who was their warm leafling really?

LOTRLOTRLOTR

Obi-Wan traveled swiftly and silently. To be honest, he rather missed his speeder at this moment, but he knew that he would not find such a thing here in this world. But it didn't hurt to wish, now, did it?

His memories did not feel like memories. It felt more like some kind of ingrained instinct, something that he had always known- some locked up information that just now could be released and put into play. It was odd.

He didn't complain, though. The geography of the land was strange. It was full of strange names, mountains, rivers- so much life and greenery that it reminded him pleasantly of Naboo.

Even as he walked, however, he vaguely recognized the landscaping. As he rounded a corner, he suddenly came across a large party of humanoid beings. Without another word, he slipped behind a tree before any of them could see him.

They were ethereal-looking, with pointed ears, long hair like his, and silver armor. Elves, as he realized from his strange knowledge. He followed them silently, feeling that he was meant to follow them.

They arrived at a large rock outcropping shortly after, where he could feel many life forms moving about nearby. The elves disappeared into the gap in the rock, and he paused. This, he knew, was Nargothrond, kingdom of Finrod Felagund, son of Finarfin, son of Finwë.

How he knew that he didn't know, but he just did. And despite himself, he knew that he would have to sit down and meditate all of his newfound knowledge, to see what all it contained and familiarize himself with it and these people and this world.

But for now, he needed a place to stay.

So remembering where the city was, he quietly slipped away to find a place where he could meditate in peace. It would not be the first time he had slept in a tree or under a rock outcropping, after all.

And so he sat down to meditate, riffling through all of his 'memories' and seeing everything there was to know. The history of this strange land, its creation, its Powers, its life forms, its habitats, all the history up till presumably where he was now.

By the time he was finished, it was nightfall, and he had spent nearly half the day in getting to know the land. So he climbed a tree and outlined his plans. He knew nothing of his heritage. He knew nothing of himself or his part in this land, although he knew that he belonged here.

It was undeniable. The Force practically railed at him if he dared think otherwise. No, he belonged here. But at the same time, he wondered what he was supposed to do here.

Tomorrow, he decided, he would head to Nargothrond and attempt to find some answers there. He had a feeling that the emblem of the sun-in-eclipse on the Obi around his waist held the key to unlocking the mystery behind his past. The Force agreed.

Perhaps the King would know, if anyone else did not. It was worth a try.

So he settled down to sleep on the boughs of the tree. If he would have seen it, the tree curled its branches about him, keeping him safe as could be in the high boughs of the oak as he slumbered to pass the time.


	5. Chapter 5

**wellll, I'm not convinced I wrote this. It wrote itself. Or rather, Obi-Wan used the Force to make me write it. So please, review, and let me tell Obs what you all think. Please? *jedi hand wave* you will review... **

**Thanks for all of the reviews, follows, and favorites!**

Chapter 5

To say the least, the city was daunting. The caves were large and vast, and he almost felt himself in awe of the meticulous carvings of the walls and pillars. He was not noticed, just another unimportant shadow that slipped from place to place, inconspicuous in the bustle of people.

The Force was strange, here. Not so much in the fact that it echoed everything in these caves, or even that many of these elves had very bright Force-signatures, but rather because it was so- alive. It buzzed with action, and were it not for his shields he would have most likely been tempted to jump up and shout from the sheer need for action.

But he was not here for sightseeing. He was here for answers. Ones that he wanted to find out as soon as possible. Obi-Wan needed a purpose. It was gnawing at him, eating away at him, shoving him to do something, setting a fire in him that he had never known before. It was like the flame of humans, he thought to himself.

Mortal flame, that burns so brightly and fiercely, and then goes out in a gust of wind. He needed something to live for.

Even in the other galaxy, world, he had had his purpose. To learn, and to put that learning into use. Gain knowledge, and through knowledge gain wisdom. Yes, it was a simple enough task, but time consuming and endless. But he had finished it nonetheless, else he would not be here now, would he?

So yes, he needed a purpose. Surely he could put his skills to good use here. If Melkor was breeding such foul things for evil purposes, then will the elves not have need for defense? His skills were much in demand.

But first, he needed to find the head of authority. And second, he needed a good explanation for his... abilities, to say the least. Not mentioning his outer visage, and myriads of other things that made his temples throb at the mere thought of it. Obi-Wan sighed to himself, leaning against a wall.

He watched elves pass by, going about their business. Their beautiful faces, rich, elegant clothes, smooth, musical speech that he knew as well as Basic Arubesh, also known as Westron or Common Speech here. Elvish.

He assumed he was an elf. Of course he was an elf. There were his pointed ears and natural (albeit suppressed) glow to prove it. Funny how he felt different somehow, though. Ever since he came here his feelings have been in turmoil.

With a sigh he jacked himself off of the wall and slipped into yet another shadowy area, using the Force to try to locate some kind of throne room. Maybe he could petition some guard to see the King? What was his name? Finrod Felagund, yes. Findárato.

Funny name. Obi-Wan snorted quietly to himself. As if he was one to talk. No doubt these elves would think his name utterly abominable. Obi-Wan Kenobi indeed. Well, he shall have to use some other name instead, shouldn't he? Daelas. That is what the trees had called him. Well then, he would be known as that, then. Daelas.

Ah. He finally made his way into the right hall, where the throne room lay beyond and two guards guarded the doors. He strode up to them and they crossed their spears, eying him warily.

"What is your business with the King?" One of them spoke up firmly.

"My name is Daelas, and I wish to have an audience with your King." He paused. "I am in need of a place to stay, and in exchange would be willing to offer my services." He hazarded carefully. The guards exchanged glances with each other.

"You may not go before the King armed, nor can you go clad in such a concealing fashion." One of them demanded. His lips twitched, and he pulled back his hood.

"As you wish." He handed them his weapons one by one. Throwing stars, throwing daggers, bow and arrows, the two small vials of poison. "Would these be considered weapons, or may I pass with them? They are rather dear to me." He patted his lightsabers as the guards looked taken aback at the sheer amount of weapons he carried.

They gave each other another glance. "You may keep them." They shrugged, and the doors opened, one of them escorting him in.

A throne sat at the head of the room, set upon a dais. Several lesser chairs were also set up, and presumably advisors and lords sat upon them. Attention turned to them immediately as they entered, and all murmurings hushed in interest and anticipation at the darkly-clad figure. Dirty-blonde hair cascaded down his back, braided in a strange fashion, and violet eyes caused many wary glances and whisperings.

The guard bowed. "Your majesty Finrod Felagund, I present to you Daelas." Then he promptly left back to the doors. Obi-Wan paused, bowing politely from the waist and waiting for any words to allow him to speak, face carefully blank with practiced ease.

The elf on the throne smiled, albeit a tinge of wariness in his bright blue eyes. Light blonde hair and a fair, white face crowned with a silver circlet completed the King of Nargothrond, great and fair elven city.

"And what, pray tell, brings such an ellon to my kingdom?" Finrod's voice was polite and unreadable.

"I come from far, my lord, escaping many troubles and seeking shelter. I have no place to go, for I am a wanderer, of no land and of no clan or tribe. Where my family is I do not know, for they have left me long ago. I wish to stay here, if your majesty would permit it, and in exchange would give you my services as vassal to your highness." Obi-Wan replied smoothly, years of diplomatic practice coming into play.

Several councillors leaned towards the King and murmured. Finrod's lips pursed slightly but otherwise gave no sign. "What is your name, fair traveller, and how come you hence to my city? You are fair of speech and have noble bearing." Was the smooth answer. Obi-Wan nearly quirked an eyebrow. Noble bearing? He should think so!

"My name is now long lost, my lord, strange and foreign to your ears- but I am often called Daelas. Such is my name. I come to the fair Nargothrond because I have heard much of it and would wish to live here if anywhere. My speech is from years of practice, for I was once a lord of high standing, heir to great things- but all is lost now, and my life has come to naught. I seek purpose, and would hope to be granted a new start in your great kingdom." He replied in all honesty. Was it not true, if just a vague sketch of his life?

Finrod studied him for a moment. "I sense no lie in you." Obi-Wan nearly snorted. If he wanted to he could use the Force to make this elf believe anything he said, no lie his eye. "But tell me, Daelas, of what- profession- are you? And why should you give them in service to me?" Finrod raised his fair eyebrow. For the first time, Obi-Wan smiled. And it was a rather disconcerting smile as well.

"Ah... The one answer has to do with the other, my lord." Was his slightly amused reply. "And I will answer them out of order. Firstly, why do I offer my services? Because my profession is the type of which it is meant to serve another, and not be used entirely for itself. If I do not have someone to serve, then my skills are all a waste. Secondly, what is my profession? I will readily admit it, though perhaps I shall regret it for your reaction." He paused and surveyed the King for any answer.

A glint appeared in Finrod's eyes, and he recognized it. It was the glint of someone who has found a kindred spirit in another, the glint of one who sees something that he likes. "Bold words, for a stranger. But I am pleased. You may, perhaps, displease us with your answer, but seeing that you are being completely truthful, I see no reason why you should not be given an opportunity to prove yourself." Was the vague answer.

He smiled again. "Then I thank the King for his generosity in his words. My profession is least known among the guild of the warriors, and least used, I do believe. And never have my skills harmed any of the free folk, elves or otherwise, of Arda. I am an assassin." He said calmly, and the reaction was better then he expected.

There was a startled silence for a moment, and then an armed ellon beside the King suddenly spoke. "Oh? Then how is it that we do not know that you are here to- assassinate- our King?" He spat.

Finrod raised a hand. "Now, Laurendil, you speak out of turn." He said sternly. "If he would have been sent to do such a deed I would be dead by now, I am sure." He said dryly, and the ellon blushed, murmuring apologies. Obi-Wan smiled.

"True enough, my lord." He said amiably. "But I have no intentions of doing so. Rather I would ask to serve you with my skills and make sure of the very opposite."

Finrod studied him again. "I see in you a clean, pure feä." He murmured, almost to himself. "Almost like that of-" he cut himself off and stirred slightly.

"What sort of position do you seek, and what sort of skills do you have?" Finrod asked with genuine curiosity.

"I seek any position to be found, be it that of a simple warrior in your ranks. It is purpose enough. As for my skills... They are many, my lord, and difficult to explain. Though it can be done, it would take many days." Was Obi-Wan's reply.

"Well then, Daelas, I would hear what you have to say, in due time. You shall be given a room in the palace, and I shall call for you on the morrow to hear of your skills. Is this pleasing to you?" Finrod asked formally. His lips twitched slightly.

"Of course, my lord. I thank you for your kindness to me." Obi-Wan replied with a bow, and a guard led him away. He could sense, however, many skeptical thoughts from the rest, and the burning gaze that pierced his back as the stone doors boomed shut behind them.

As he retrieved his weapons, however, he took comfort in the thought that the Force was pleased and suffered himself to be led to his room. He refused to linger on the thought that Finrod Felagund, King of Nargothrond, had mind shields that were worthy of those of a Force-user.

LOTRLOTRLOTR

He had spent the night in meditation, not seeking to do anything else. He had no need for sleep. He had no need for rest. If he truly had to, he did not need to eat either. But he did, usually, if only to keep some semblance of normality. As if he really needed to. He was anything but normal.

So all night he had consulted with the Force, weighing this and that choice, determining what was the best way to tell the King all the information he needed to know of the Force, and galaxies, and all these things. And he had come to an answer in the early hours of the morning.

Plum purpose eyes opened and he smiled, standing to his feet and pleased with the results of his endeavors of the night. The room was simple but comfortable, with a large feather bed, wardrobe, and a table and chair. Tapestries decorated the walls and comfortable rugs littered the floors as a fire burned in the grate by the table, seeing eerie flickers onto the stone ceiling.

He had seen worse. His personal room in the Star Forge had not contained this much. He never changed clothes unless they were dirtied or soiled, for he rarely needed to shower or bathe. He almost never ever sweat, really.

There was a knock at the door, and he raised a hand to wave it open when he checked himself. That would not do. So he stood and came to the door, opening it. A maid stood there with a small smile, carrying a tray.

"This is for you, my lord." She said politely, handing him the tray with a small curtesy. He took it and inclined his head.

"Thank you." He said absently, and shut the door as she scurried away. On the tray was a bowl of fruits and a piece of parchment wrapped in a red ribbon and sealed with the king's seal.

With a frown he sat at the desk and took a bite of the fruit, cracking open the seal and opening the missive. It contained a summons to meet the King, and he was informed that a guard would come to escort him to his destination when it was time.

With a sigh Obi-Wan stood and made sure he still had every one of his weapons and 'sabers, that his cloak was properly draped and that he had all that he needed. So with a nod once he was sure, he sat down to await the time, slipping into light meditation and mapping the entire city in his mind.

An hour later, there was a knock at the doors, and he answered it. Laurendil from the day before, was there, and despite the lack of emotion on his face Obi-Wan could sense the unease and suspicion radiating off of him in waves. He just shrugged to himself and followed the ellon after a polite greeting, hands tucked into the sleeves of his robe and hood thrown over his face.

He did not blame the soldier for being suspicious. If he weren't then Obi-Wan would have been worried, to be honest. He was led to a door and Laurendil entered, leading him to a large table where the King sat alone. Laurendil took guard next to him as Finrod looked up. Obi-Wan bowed.

"Ah. Good morning, Daelas. Please, sit." He was motioned into a chair across the table and he pulled down his hood and sat.

"You say that it would take many days to learn about you." Finrod's eyes glittered. "Well, I am assuming that if I am to have a personal assassin as bodyguard that I should know all about him. Hence the privacy. You shall be working along with Laurendil if I find you to be worthy."

Obi-Wan smiled. "Thank you, my lord. Yes, I have a great many things to tell, and I shall tell you all. But I ask you to humor me, my lord. I believe it would be easier if I write all of it down in a book, to be read in a story, so that it may be agreeable and I shall not have to repeat myself many times over. My tale is a strange one, and perhaps many would find it enjoyable to read it as a story." He gave the King a keen look.

Finrod seemed to think it over, staring at him. "Very well." He finally answered. "I shall humor you. If I have any questions then I shall ask them of you in private after I have read it." He decided.

"Of course, my lord. I shall answer all as best I can." Obi-Wan replied.

"For an assassin, you seem to be free with information." Laurendil spoke up, and he chuckled.

"Despite what the title implies, I have nothing to be ashamed of. Never have I killed or harmed an innocent, and all my kills have been in protection for the side of good." He answered, voice clearly amused. "Why should I be afraid to hide such things?" He asked dryly.

Finrod's lips twitched. "Indeed, Laurendil, why should he?" He asked rhetorically. "And contrary to popular belief, I can judge for myself." The tone the sentence was spoken in was mild, and that made the rebuke all the worse.

Laurendil looked chagrined. "My apologies, Aranya, I meant nothing of the sort." Was his mutter. Finrod smiled genuinely.

"I know it, Laurendil." Was his only enigmatic answer. And Obi-Wan was given a stack of parchment and a quill pen to write with. And so he began, writing as the Force guided his pen and looked over his shoulder, murmuring words into his ears.

In a galaxy far, far away...


	6. Chapter 6

**My deepest apologies for not updating this sooner, but I was really busy and had to travel a lot this past year, plus there were a few natural disasters that occurred where I live. I want to thank those who are still sticking with this story, and my thanks also to darkdragondude who PM'd me and put me on a guilt trip that led me to finally update. But I will now rise from my shallow grave and come back to you all! So please, forgive my tardiness and failure to reply to any reviews that you might have left. And without further ado, please**

**Read!**

**Enjoy!**

**Review!**

* * *

Chapter 6

It had taken him several days, but his story was finally written out. Everything about the galaxy he had grown up in, his heritage, his quest for knowledge, his training, everything. Including his sudden departure and arrival in Middle Earth, or Arda, as it was called.

Obi-Wan was currently sitting on a chair in the library, patiently waiting for Finrod to ask his questions. It had taken the King a day to finish reading his book, and he had been called almost immediately afterwards.

Finrod finally looked up from the bound tome that he held, entitled 'Star Wars.' It had been a whim on Obi-Wan's part to create a title.

"It is a hard tale to believe, although the detail you have written in such a short time and the surety of the writing makes it impossible for you to have made it up." Finrod started in immediately. "You have written well- I see no confusion in it." Then he sighed and laid the book down.

"I suppose the only way to prove your tale would be to show me your weapons and... 'powers,' would it not?" Finrod studied him piercingly. Obi-Wan smiled softly.

"As you wish, my lord." Was his quiet answer. He stood and looked about briefly. Laurendil was standing by as always, lips pressed into a skeptical line, unsurprisingly. There were several chairs scattered about, and a stone statue- perfect.

Obi-Wan reached out a hand towards the statue and the chairs, reaching out through the Force. The Force coursed through him, extending his fingertips and latching onto the items he sought for. They lifted, floating in the air and then beginning to move about in thin air. Finrod looked shocked. Laurendil gaped.

With a sudden grin, Obi-Wan began to make the items dance about in a jolly jig, all about the room and then dancing tauntingly around Laurendil. Al the while Obi-Wan smirked, arms crossed as he finally set them down in their proper places with barely a 'thump.' Finrod suddenly laughed.

"I suppose Laurendil deserved that, did he?" He teased, and then stood, clapping Obi-Wan's shoulder. "I think you have convinced me, my friend. From now on, you shall be my personal bodyguard and assassin. Is this pleasing to you?" He asked with a smile.

Obi-Wan bowed politely with gratitude. "Thank you, my lord, for your generosity." Was his smooth and genuine answer.

"Laurendil, shut your mouth, my friend, before I send you off to kitchen duty." Finrod said with humor, and the ellon clamped his jaw shut with an audible snap as he grimaced. Obi-Wan chuckled.

"I hope there are no hard feelings, lord Laurendil. I do hope that we can work together in friendship." He offered. Laurendil gave him a blink.

"I- of course, my lord." He bowed to both Obi-Wan and Finrod, who was smiling, pleased.

"Good, good. Now then, go on, you two, I am busy with these Valar-forsaken papers." Finrod scowled at the desk as Obi-Wan and Laurendil snickered. "Laurendil, will you please take Daelas to find proper robes?" Finrod asked. Obi-Wan stiffened.

"Ah, if you will forgive me, my lord, I prefer to keep these." He said, feeling vaguely uncomfortable. Finrod looked at him for a moment, and then nodded.

"Very well. But at least allow them to place my emblem on some part of it." Finrod raised an eyebrow. He relaxed.

"Of course, my lord, I most certainly will. Ah- I had a small question, my lord." He added.

"Of course. What is it that you wish to ask of me?" He asked. Obi-Wan paused, and then pointed to the obi on his waist.

"I do not know why, but I have always had this symbol here. Do you know what it means?" He asked the King, who leaned forwards to study it, and abruptly sucked in a breath, straightening with a startled look on his face.

"That- is that a sun-in-eclipse?" He asked incredulously. Obi-Wan blinked.

"I'm assuming-?" He replied, feeling leery.

"Ah... The only place I have ever seen that symbol was in Valinor... It is the symbol of lord Nàmo." Finrod mused. Obi-Wan blinked. The Lord of Mandos, judge of the dead? Surely that couldn't be right.

"Perhaps it means something else." He offered. Finrod gave him a look.

"I think not. No one else uses such an emblem, and that one is exactly correct." He pointed to the obi, and then shook his head. "Truly you are a mystery, Daelas. I look forwards to solving you." He smiled briefly and then sat down, effectively dismissing them. Laurendil started to lead him out, leaving him to ponder the meaning behind what he had learned.

"Ah, and Daelas?" Finrod suddenly said. Obi-Wan looked back. "You and I shall go on the next patrol with you as my bodyguard." He said with a neutral look, but the feeling that came through the Force alerted Obi-Wan that it was a test. He smiled.

"Of course, my lord." He answered, and followed Laurendil back through the winding caverns to his room.

"If there is anything you need, there will be maids or guards in the hallways that will see to it." Laurendil said curtly, and he nodded in polite thanks.

"Of course, thank you, Laurendil." He answered, and Laurendil nodded before walking away with a clank of his armor. Obi-Wan waited for a moment before shutting the door and walking- to the library. He needed more information about Valinor. He needed more information about himself. A Jedi Lord needs no distractions. He must know who or what he is at all times. Obi-Wan needed answers, and he had the opportunity to search for them in perhaps the best place he would find.

The Force within the library was like a cup of tea, soothing, warm, and flavorful. Lazy snatches of titles and impressions vaguely wafted across his senses, and he stood in silence for a moment, looking up at the shelves and shelves of precious manuscripts. He wished he had a datapad with him, but there would be no technology to charge it with anyway. Besides, his memory was good enough.

As he stood there contemplatively, he sensed someone walking toward him and turned to see an ellon smiling at him faintly. He sensed slight disease from the male, but otherwise trust that no harm would come to him. Obviously Finrod was a lord that was greatly trusted, then. It spoke volumes to Obi-Wan about the ellon he was serving, and made him feel more at ease.

"Greetings." He said in the common Sindarin manner, and the ellon returned it.

"May I help you?" He asked politely. "My name is Elboron, and I would be more than happy to be of assistance." He said.

Obi-Wan hesitated. "Ah- yes. I- I have come to search for any information on the Valar." He replied, and the ellon looked at him curiously but otherwise merely nodded.

"Of course. Lord Finrod himself has written several volumes. If you will follow me-"

And so Obi-Wan was introduced to the realm of Valar, Maiar- and Eru, the creator of all. The Force gathered thickly and potently in the room at the mention of Eru, and Obi-Wan realized with a start that the Force was nothing more than another form of Eru. It was Eru Himself, the way He worked through the affairs of Middle-Earth: it was His stamp on everything. The Force held the very fabric of time and the world together, because it was Eru, and Eru had created all.

He shut the book gently, aware of its value, and sat there cross-legged on the floor in typical meditative stance. Perhaps he was a Maiar. The book, one of the ones written by his new master, said that the Maiar were servants of the Valar, and often bore their lord's emblems. And thus he had read the section that dealt with all known knowledge of lord Námo, lord of Mandos and Judge of the Dead. What he had read had made him believe more and more that he had to be a Maiar of Námo. If his obi wasn't enough, then just the sense of faint agreement from the Force was enough. Very well then. Unless proven wrong, he would continue to accept that he was a Maiar of Námo, and continue to serve the people of middle earth with his skills in the best way he knew- only this time, in the name of lord Námo.

Even if he knew how much more important than that he really was, undoubtedly it wouldn't have made a difference to Obi-Wan. He would have stood and gone about his new duties in just the same manner as he did. Titles never mattered to him. It was the motive, and his motives would still be the same.

An assassin's job is always the same; the only thing different is the master, and by default, the target.

LOTRLOTRLOTR

The trees were certainly silent. Obi-Wan slipped behind the trees and made his way in complete and utter silence through the forest, close by Finrod. The patrol was looking into the rumors of an Orc pack nearby that had reached their ears, and according to the rumors, they should be close to the pack.

But as afternoon neared, they saw nothing at all, not even any signs that orcs had been anywhere near. In resignation, Finrod ordered that there be a break and guards to be on duty as the rest took brief refreshment,

"Come, Daelas." Finrod offered. "Eat."

Obi-Wan slipped from the tree and shook his head politely. "Nay, my lord. I rarely eat, for I have no need for food. If it pleases you, I will stand guard." He said. Finrod paused for a moment, and then nodded as the other elves looked on in clear disbelief.

"Of course." He answered, and then turned back to his seat on a log.

Obi-Wan slipped into a tree and began meditating. The Force swirled around him, communing with him soothingly. He drew strength from it, like drinking water from a canteen in the middle of a desert. An oasis in the desert of reality.

His mind wandered the eddying, changing currents of the Force, lazily peeking into nooks and crannies, just resting. But he was still alert to what was going around him. He was not known as an assassin for nothing. One cannot scare or approach a shadow without being known. And he was a shadow.

The Force suddenly stirred, a wave of new movement. He studied this new moment, and immediately jerked away from where his consciousness what about to touch the movement. His long overdue meeting was at hand, it seemed. Orcs.

He drew out of meditation smoothly, rising to his feet silently and swiftly. Obi-Wan Kenobi was gone, and the assassin was back. His face was rock, chiseled stone, unmoving, and his eyes were plum purple, like the twilight of the sky. Dark and concentrated. His awareness stretched from his tree to where he could sense the orcs were, and he was not surprised. Thirty orcs, all headed in their direction. Assuming, of course, that that was their intent: ambush.

"My lord. Orc pack, thirty strong, two parsecs-" he broke off and hissed under his breath at his own slip-up. "Half a league to the west." He said. "Permission to put them out of commission?" His voice was flat and emotionless, a droid waiting for instructions.

There was a startled pause before Laurendil sprang to his feet. "I have seen your skill, but even you cannot take out thirty on your own, if there even are that many!" He said, helping Finrod by handing his lord's sword to him.

"Do not underestimate me." Obi-Wan answered in the same blank tone. "I have killed more than a hundred foes on my own before. I await my master's permission and instruction." He said, marking the orc's progress through the forest. One parsec away. They were dark patches in the force, not completely black, but more like fire turned into a dark flame. Once lights that were now muted and stained inside out with evil and the dark side. Seething, simmering blackness.

Finrod stood and motioned for his troops to remain silent. "Are you certain that you will not be hurt?" He called up to the motionless figure, who dropped to the ground noiselessly and bowed.

"There are never guarantees for my own safety. I care not for anything but your welfare, for you are my master. They are near. Permission?" His voice was finally laced with steel, annoyed at the delay. The closer they got, the harder it would be for him.

Finrod hesitated, then sighed, sensing Obi-Wan's annoyance at the delay. "Into the trees, all of you. Leave this to Daelas." He ordered firmly, then himself climbed into a tall tree.

Obi-Wan nodded and leaped into a tree silently, waiting, biding his time for then to arrive in the now-empty clearing below them. "Please do not fire if you can help it." He said calmly but clearly. "And please do not, for any cause, descend from the trees. If you do, there is no guarantee that I will not mistake you for one of them."

There was a murmur of assent before all went still and quiet as the orc's marched through. Obi-Wan immediately began to calculate their ranks and his moves in his mind. Revan's lessons ran through his mind. Always visualize your target in your mind. Always be aware of how many there are, counting kills if you must. That way, none may take you by surprise by hiding when you think you have disposed of them all. His hand went back to his quiver and slowly drew out one arrow, nocking it on the bow in his hands. He sighted, and drew.

There was a throaty hum as a whistle split the air, and the orcs looked down in confusion at their fallen comrade. Then they began to swing their weapons blindly, surprised by his sudden attack, swiveling to try to catch sight of him. But he was an assassin. He was not to be seen that easily. He took them out one by one, using his bow and arrows, preferring in this case not to use his lightsabers. He sensed every one of their movements before it would happen. Their thoughts screamed out into the Force, and he grimaced slightly, annoyed.

The Force screeched in warning just as an arrow was released from a black crossbow, heading straight for his head. He reached out a hand, twisting his fingers sharply, and the arrow snapped in midair, falling to the ground in two neat pieces. Every body that was felled dropped to the ground silently, sounds muted by an application of the Force. Birds stopped chirping. The forest was silent. That was ten count done. Twenty left. Then when he felt no more arrows under his fingers, he leaped.

They never knew what hit them- or rather, dropped into their midst. He was like a blur, a dark shadow that came out of nowhere and began to wreak havoc in their ranks.

Daelas almost scoffed at how easy these prey of his were. Easier than droids, even. The shadowed trees watched, silently applauding and cackling in morbid glee over the death of the filth. Their Daelas killed the orcs, and they loved to watch the sport. Their Daelas was not alone, for he had them on his side. He was safe.

Hood up and throwing daggers out, he went in for the kill. The gaping elves started as a blur of black appeared in the midst of the pack. He sank into the Force, feeling every presence around him. The elves were bright, while the orcs were black and reeking of putrid darkness. He used the difference to his advantage.

The orcs were caught off guard by the new threat and disoriented. He lunged forwards smoothly, sinking a dagger into one's chest. Another leaped forwards, but he turned and the fat neck was slit a moment later. Eighteen.

Two came forwards together, one heading for his head and the other his feet. Leaping up, he did a crunch in midair and came back down on top of the one sword while the other was halted in its course by application of the Force. Both fell with a swift swipe to arm and leg arteries unprotected by crude armor.

Sixteen left. Time was ticking. It was an exercise, nothing more. Just a meditative exercise. Focus. Feel, don't think. An almost indiscernible puncture to the chest in between armor, and another dropped with not so much as a parting gurgle. Fifteen.

He was a shadow, slipping in among their ranks before they realized it and struck like a snake from underfoot. He dropped and did a swift kick to the thigh of one. It fell, feeling lost in its legs, and was silenced swiftly as a knife made home in its neck.

A swipe across a chest. Thirteen. They saw that it was all but over for them. Three converged on him at once, one of them taking out a whip and snapping it at his head. Obi-Wan decided it was about time, and pulled out his double-blade, simultaneously raising his arms so that it was pointed towards the approaching whip thong. With a quick yanking motion, the whip was jerked into his hands and used to neatly snap off its original owner's head. Twelve.

The other two paused, then seeing the metallic, seemingly useless cylinder pointed towards them with no knives in sight, charged. Obi-Wan thumbed the ignition button and smiled faintly as the red blades slid out with an ominous hum. The twelve remaining seemed to pause as though in hesitation against this strange red light, and then resumed their blind, confident charge. He ignored the warning shout from one of the elves and ducked, spinning the lightsaber in an arc over his head. Two heads dropped next to him. Ten left.

He leaped up with a flying kick and expertly thrust the red blade forwards, impaling one Orc before jabbing backwards and gutting another. With a quick motion, he turned and drew a red X in the air, downing two others. Six left. It was much too easy, and in boredom, he decided to use a neat flip and an exaggerated twirl of the double blade in circles around himself. That was four left.

Then he quickly swapped sabers for his azure single blade, using defensive Shii-cho to deflect the raining blows like they were tiny blaster shots. He almost toyed with them lazily before deciding that that would be taking advantage of his master's time. With a swift movement, there were two left. He made a dive and came up from a smooth roll with an arrow in his hand. Bending backwards as easily as a twig, he dodged an Orc and kicked its gullet, making it double over and allowing him to thrust the arrow through its head before jerking it back out and throwing it at point-blank range.

The last of the pack fell, a small trickle of black blood escaping his mouth as the arrow in his neck was yanked out by a disgusted Obi-Wan Kenobi. He hated the death that Daelas wrought, and yet gloried in the knowledge that it was one less terrorizer of the innocents. He cared not that the world knew not of it, for he knew, and that was enough for him. He was more than repaid for every life that he helped in the killing of any possible offender.

It was his life, and he would not change it for all the glory the Valar could bestow upon him. If only his masters could see him now. They would have been proud. He wished that he could have talked with them one last time, to thank them personally, and to show them the affection he held for him as a foster father and mother, teachers, and companions. To give them due honor. But such was the life of a Jedi Lord. Daelas held no place in his duties for attachments, but Obi-Wan did. That part of him did. And the balance, albeit fragile, was well-defined. That's how he had been trained. That's how he was. That was what defined him more than anything else.

The elves slid down from the trees, just as he finished gathering his arrows and sticking them into his quiver. Finrod strode over to him and clasped his shoulder as he bowed.

"Safety assured." He said blankly, and Finrod nodded.

"For which I give you my thanks, Daelas." Was the grave answer.

Therefore his existence was known and made into a legend among the elves of Middle Earth for the first time. He only wondered if he would regret giving them his alias. Well, as he reasoned, that was what it was for anyway. An alias. To conceal his true name. He never uttered that name. It was secret and precious to him, for it was the only sure thing left of his past. Obi-Wan Kenobi did just fine. It was familiar, and it was his.


End file.
